I stared at Y/N from the passenger seat of the Bronco, watching her grip the steering wheel tight. She was white knuckling it, barely concealed rage under her skin clawing it’s way out.
I had a strong feeling she was plotting my murder and debating acting on it.
“I get the sense you’re upset with me, honey.” She turned her head slowly, like she was the monster in a horror movie and I was the final girl that thought she’d gotten away only for the movie to end as he grabbed hold. I held up a hand, inching slightly towards the door. “I’d like to point out that if you kill me, that’s pretty counterproductive to all the conversations we’ve had with the doctors today.”
“Swear on my life that you never got a second opinion until today. Swear on it, Mark or so help me-”
“I swear,” I said, Y/N breathing so deeply I swore I felt the truck move with the exhale she let out.
“This is why married men live longer,” she said to herself, her hands leaving the wheel, going to her hair, running through it, fingers squeezing her scalp. “The single ones are fucking morons.”
“Y/N-”
“Four fucking doctors just said you’re treatable, Mark. FOUR. We are walking back in there and signing you up for surgery and radiation.”
“The surgery could kill me,” I said. “I just got you back-”
“If you wait another fucking month the tumor might be too big. Dr. Johanson is one of the top neurosurgeons in the world. If he says you have good odds, we’re taking that fucking thing out,” she said, glaring at me like I was an idiot for even debating it.
“Yeah? And what if I die? What if they screw up and I’m brain dead? How you going to take care of me? How are we going to pay for this? Insurance doesn’t cover this,” he said.
“You clearly never spent my life insurance money-”
“We have to give that back!” I said. She narrowed her eyes, my own raising. “Y/N, they’re going to notice when you aren’t dead anymore.”
“Mark, I’ll set up a good damn gofundme if I have to. One of the best neurosurgeons in the world has a fucking open surgery slot for four days from now. This is the best shot you’re going to get-”
“It’s my choice!” She went still, an uncertainty to her I didn’t like. “Y/N, I get what they said in there. They can probably take the whole thing out. But it’s going to come back.”
“You don’t know that. Your shitty doctor never did a biopsy. If it’s benign-”
“In what world is a tumor that big benign,” I scoffed, Y/N rolling her eyes.
“If it’s benign and surgery is successful, that means you have great odds of it never coming back.”
“Yeah well how the hell am I supposed to plan a future with you when I might have brain cancer again a year from now, three years?” I asked.
“We aren’t promised tomorrow. We could both die in this car on the way home today. It does not mean you stop living. I didn’t get to live for three years. You’re right, it is your choice. Maybe you will get sick again. Maybe I get sick someday. It doesn’t mean we give up.”
“Maybe I’m not as strong of a person as you,” I snapped. She sat back in her seat, looking out the windshield, watching a breeze dance in the trees. I sighed, slumping down in my own seat. “I’m sorry.”
“Would you have married me if I hadn’t brought it up?” she asked. I didn’t look at her, the air heavy.
“Honestly? Probably not. I almost got married again you know. Tried to be happy like you would have wanted. Couldn’t go through with it though. It wasn’t fair to marry a woman I didn’t love.”
“You require a stong hand.” I turned towards her, Y/N meeting my eyes, her eyes tired, the fury gone. “You need someone unwavering in their love to you because I know, all you’ve ever wanted is someone to love you to the end of the earth. Give up on yourself if you want to Mark but I won’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you, moron,” she said with a quiet laugh. “Even when you’re as dense as a brick, I love you.”
I reached my head over the center console, grasping hers inside it. “...Then let’s go sign me up for surgery.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Five Days Later
Reader POV
You woke up from the beside lounger in Mark’s ICU room when a hand shook your shoulder. You blinked up wearily, Dr. Johanson smiling and nodding for you to follow him. Mark was fast asleep in bed, bandages wrapped around his skull.
The surgery had been long and he’d been awake for all twenty hours of it, along with you. You’d talked, joked, kept him engaged while doctors on the other side of a blue curtain poked around in his skull. Not once had Mark faltered in a question or response and you had some small hope that he’d gotten through it all okay.
“I’m glad you were able to get some sleep,” said the doctor when you were down the hall and in an empty waiting room.
“Yeah, it was a long day,” you said, chewing on your bottom lip.
“We have the biopsy results.” Your heart was pounding so hard it nearly burst through your chest, anxiety riding high like it had when you’d first been taken. “The cells in the tumor are non-cancerous.”
“It was…the tumor was benign?” you asked, the doctor smiling. “I thought Mark’s original doctor said-”
“His original doctor is a fucking moron labeling a tumor as malignent without checking all his facts first. Mark’s tumor was benign.”
“What about the tumor? Did uh, did you get it all out?” you asked.
“We did,” he said your heart still in your chest.
“Does that mean…he’s okay?” you asked. He smiled, your adrenaline pumping through your veins.
“It means we will do scans to confirm and put Mark on a small course of radiation treatment but if that all comes back negative, for all intents and purposes, Mark will very likely be fine and live a normal, long life.”
You exhaled, the doctor catching your arms when you leaned down, your body flooding with endorphins.
“Mrs. Meachum,” he said, guiding you to sit in a chair. You shook your head, the doctor calling for a nurse. “Are you alright? I understand this kind of news is shocking, in a good way.”
“It’s been a really rough couple of years,” you whispered, Dr. Johanson nodding. “We needed this.”
“We’ll keep you informed of the results of the scans.” You returned to Mark’s room, a weight off your shoulders. It wasn’t fully gone, you knew you still needed those results but if Dr. Johanson said he got it all, then you trusted him.
You sat back in your chair, Mark stirring slightly, blinking open his eyes. “Scale of one to ten, how ridiculous do I look with half my head shaved?”
“You just come out of major brain surgery and that’s what you ask?” He smiled, lazily taking your hand in his. “Eight but you look cute with hats.”
“I think you mean adorable.” He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. “Did you talk to the doctor yet?”
“Yeah, a little,” you said, Mark’s green eyes meeting yours, a singular question in them. “You know…I found a house for sale. It’s way overpriced. The owner is former police. I think between both our sob stories, we could get him to knock off a decent chunk.”
“Why the hell are you talking about a new house?”
“Because we are not spending the next fifty years in that ugly monstrosity you live in now.” He blinked rapidly, his heart rate increasing on the monitors. “They have to do a few tests to make sure but you were benign. Doc thinks you’re going to be just fine.”
“Wait,” he said, holding up a hand. “Wait. I don’t understand. My tumor wasn’t cancerous?”
“Don’t sound so happy about living,” you said, Mark wide eyed, one hand going to his head. “Sorry to disappoint but you were in fact curable. Now your affliction for shitty dad jokes, that sadly we couldn’t fix. So take a deep breath, let it out, and know that I will be mocking you for not getting a second opinion for the rest of our lives.”
“Always got to be a know it all.” Mark sank into the bed, gripping your hand hard. “I gave up.”
“If it makes you feel better, I gave up that I’d ever see you again lots of times,” you said.
“Yeah but you always came back around.” You shrugged. “You kept fighting. I gave up.”
“Different situations.” He looked like he wanted to argue and you sighed. “I pick you up when you fall down, you pick me up when I fall.”
“LIke I said, know it all,” he smirked, a shuffling sound outside the door. Both your heads turned, your eyes widening. Mark’s heart rate shot up crazy high, the man in the doorway holding up a finger to his lips.
“Either of you say a word when the nurse comes in and I’ll kill everyone on this floor.” You just stared at him as he stepped out of the way, a nurse coming to check on Mark. He fumbled his way through an excuse of getting excited at seeing the man before the three of you were alone.
He stepped to the end of the bed, his gaze drifting to you. “Hello Mr. Jack Walker. Or should I say Mr. Meachum.”
“Volchek,” Mark growled. “Pretty ballsy to walk in here.”
“Kittens are more dangerous than you at the moment, Mr. Meachum. She is far more dangerous.” You swallowed thickly, Mark’s hand gripping yours hard. “Y/N, come with me or I will kill him. You attempt to leave my side, I will kill him slowly. If you are not difficult, I will consider not turning Los Angeles into a nuclear wasteland.”
“He has a nuke?” you breathed out, Mark nodding very slowly, his eyes closing. Shit, he was still exhausted from surgery. He needed rest and you needed Volchek gone.
“Yes. Your precious husband will remain unharmed if you are cordial. Decide.” You stood up, Mark’s eyes fluttering open.
“No,” he whispered, eyes hazy with fatigue and worry. “I-I just got you back.”
“You’ll find me again. Get your fucking radiation treatment and trust your team to help.” You leaned down and kissed him, Mark using every ounce of strength he had to wrap his arms around you. Volchek yanked your arm though, pulling you back. You glared at him, Mark seething from his bed.
“Disobedience results in his death. Remember that.” Volchek grabbed your coat, tossed it at you, and then you were walking by his side out the door, getting one last look at Mark before you were gone.
One Hour Later
“Did you mean it?” you asked, sitting across from Volchek in a private jet, flying god knew where in the middle of the night. He didn’t bother looking up from his laptop, your hands tied together in front of you. You easily broke free, tossing the plastic remnants in his face. He gave you an annoyed glance before he went back to his computer. “Hey. Asshole. Did you fucking mean you won’t blow up LA or not?”
“Normally I would say not to trust my word but for you, I believe we’ve established a level of trust over the years. I told you I would never let one of my men touch you or torture you. Did I keep my word?” You crossed your arms, Volchek closing the lid of his computer. “The fate of the city is in your hands. Be good, millions of lives saved. Be a brat, massive death and destruction and I will make sure that Mark Meachum’s body parts are hand delivered to you one at a time.”
“You’re not as cold as you’d like me to believe you are.” He looked off kilter for once and you tried to push it. “There’s no logical reason for me to still be alive therefore the only reason I am is that there is a shred of a soul left in there. A shred to be clear but it’s there. So what is it? Do I look like your mother? A girl you had a crush on? Why am I still alive? And before you shut me out, why don’t you try being honest and just lay your cards on the table like you’ve been trying to for 3 years but never had the balls to.”
“You have a filthy mouth for a pretty girl.”
“Woman,” you corrected, narrowing your eyes. He lifted his chin, a strange quirk of his lip upwards.
“I think all fathers still see their daughters as little girls, no matter the age.” You stared at him, Volchek’s smile turning dark. “You are aware you were adopted, correct? I once went to school with the daughter of the American ambassador to Belarus.”
You stared at him more, eyebrows through the roof. “No fucking way. You’re like…a decade older than me at most.”
“Thirteen years and yes, it’s possible. The American girl was…adventureous to say and older than I. The family left eventually and I was none the wiser she had a baby that was given up for adoption, not until a few years ago that was. You’re correct. If you were anyone else, I would let you burn with the rest of them.”
You sank lower in your seat as he leaned across the table, his hand reaching out and grazing your cheek.
“Blood is important and you are the only blood of mine that remains. Your future can be spent in fresh air and sunshine or in a dark room underground. But we will be family eventually. True, I will only allow so much pain to be inflicted upon you but your husband and the city of Los Angeles? We will be family one way or the other. The choice is yours.”
He slithered back to his seat, opening his laptop while you swallowed down the bile in your throat and prayed Mark figured out a way to find you again.
